Boat Ramp Scavenger Hunts

Here’s a new summertime activity that works well with pandemic-inspired desire for social distancing: collecting boat ramps!

Just kidding, sort of. Here’s what it actually is. As some of you know, I’ve been working for several years as a freelance contractor for our state conservation agency providing writing and editorial services for one portion of its website. As I’ve used the site over the years, I’ve noticed that of the hundreds of conservation, natural, and fishing access areas that appear among the “Places to Go” on their website, several don’t have a representational photo—like, not even a thumbnail image to appear as you scroll through the lists of search results. (And a few are kind of lame—like a closeup photo of the area’s sign.)

Mostly, the ones that don’t have photos are access points along rivers (boat ramps—so not very compelling, photographically), and community lakes where the state agency has a partnership with the local government (so, not 100 percent the state agency’s job to promote). Still, it’s the web, and you know . . . pictures!

Anyway, since I have a camera that takes pretty okay pictures (good enough for web, anyway, and in some cases equal or better than the ones used on the website) . . . and since I can edit that part of the site (although I’m not in charge of it), I’ve been adding pictures here and there for the areas that need them. Yeah, for free. In fact, until recently, they invited users to upload their own photos, so it’s not like I’m going crazy here.

It started a few years ago, when I’d use the site myself to find directions and noted there was no image. Well, since we would be there, I might as well take a few clicks and provide a pic here and there.

And so Sue and I have been taking little excursions on weekends. I make a list of places that don’t yet have pictures, we figure out an itinerary, and off we go. We see how many boat ramps and backwoods public lands we can visit in an afternoon. It’s been quite an adventure, connecting these dots, going places we’ve never been before, occasionally missing a turn from one gravel county road onto another because the road sign has been knocked over and is laying in the weeds (Osage County, I’m talking about you) . . . but you know. Adventures.

We’ve seen a lot of beautiful places.

And a lot of boat ramps.

LOTS of boat ramps.

. . . All manner of boat ramps.

We usually have a picnic while we’re at it. It’s easy to find a pleasant place to sit.

It’s nice to get out of the house and do something together. We take pictures of all manner of beautiful and strange nature things. Then we go home and try to identify what we've seen, if it's something new.

Fun fact: this is a lot like something else we did when we first moved back to Missouri—we were living in Columbia, and Sue had never lived there before, and I thought she should get to know the university better. So many buildings! So we made a scavenger hunt out of visiting and entering every campus building we could. Why not? Those are public places, and we’re Missouri residents and taxpayers! Also, many of the buildings at the University of Missouri are beautiful examples of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century public architecture, so it’s a treat to step inside them.

We had a campus map and a checklist. Also, irreverent but in a nondestructive way, we had a roll of adhesive paper dots that we used to mark our conquests. In multiple-story buildings, we sought to put one dot on each floor. We made sure no one saw us while we were marking the buildings this way, and we’d stick the dots in odd, not-quite-conspicuous places. The tops or sides of door frames. The side of a light fixture. The top edge of an elevator door. A few times, in plain sight, but on a surface where the heads of screws, for example, created a pattern where one more little round circle wouldn’t draw notice. I think we might’ve put one above a switch on a classroom’s light-switch plate, which looked like someone might have marked “this switch” as somehow special.

We only put the dots onto metal or painted stuff, nothing that was finished wood. . . . I wonder how many of those are still there. I wonder if other people discovered these dots and wondered about their significance. Hah. We ought to make a new project of going back to those buildings and looking for the dots. We even put them on the parking structures.

We didn’t finish our little project—we didn’t conquer the University of Missouri. But we had fun walking around that beautiful campus in a lot of majestic buildings, marking them as “ours” in an exceedingly mild way. Just like we're having fun visiting all these boat ramps.

I hope you're having a fun summer, and that you're all staying safe and well.

Cattleman’s Roadhouse, Mt. Sterling, Kentucky

At first I was skeptical: It looked like one of those chain restaurants that orbit the motels at highway exits. And maybe it kind of is. But as a chain, Cattleman’s Roadhouse is blessedly small and local. Five restaurants, all in Kentucky. Scarcely an “engulf and devour” multinational corporation.

So we were spending the night of June 15, 2016, at one of those motels on the highway exit, dog-tired and fried from driving through thunderstorms on the West Virginia turnpike. And after shlepping our bags into the hotel, it was marvelous to walk (not drive!) over to this restaurant. We had our choice of indoor or outdoor seating—the latter with a nice view of . . . our hotel (well?)—but with it hot and humid, we elected to collapse into a booth inside. It was fairly dark in there, but the tables were well lit. Lots of wood on the walls, tables, booths, chairs. Some corrugated galvanized metal on the walls, too. Posters of old western movies and their star cowboys. (Tom Mix was in my sightline!)

The menu had plenty of good choices. It’s a steakhouse, so obviously they have steaks, potatoes, and so on. If you’re a vegetarian, you won’t find much, but what do you expect? At least they have a big salad bar, and the vegetable side dishes were good.

We always look for local specialties, and this place gave us some interesting choices, things we don’t see much in Missouri: Several of the fried appetizers, including fried green tomatoes (y’all, we’re in the South!), came with a “petal sauce” (that was new to me), and the “tower of onion rings” is truly a sight to behold. Another distinctive thing was steaks served with a house-made bourbon glaze (because Kentucky) and/or “tobacco onions”; and there are a nice variety of sides, including three (three!) options for sweet potatoes (baked, french fried, or casserole, complete with marshmallows on top). Other entrées include “moonshine chicken” (yes, made with moonshine) and “grandma’s fried pork chops.” Of course, they’re proud of their steaks and burgers.

The restaurant has a website, so visit it and look at the menu. Also realize they have specials; the night we were there, beer cheese (another local specialty) was an optional topping for hamburgers. You must try the beer cheese! Variety is the spice of life.

Finally, beverages. Yes, yes, there were local craft beers. But, Glory! —They had 25 Kentucky bourbons to try! The waiters were cheerful and helpful about them; if you ask questions, as I did, and they don’t know, they will ask one of their colleagues for details. I ended up trying a local-distribution single malt from a large distiller, and another whiskey from a distillery I’d never heard of.

When the waiter brought me that second bar glass of ice and “happy water,” she smiled sheepishly and shrugged: “The bartender poured a double by mistake.” A nice little reward after that long, rainy drive through the mountains! And I didn’t have to drive back to the motel!

Sorry, but I didn’t take any photos because we were exhausted, and I didn’t think I’d get very good pictures anyway, what with the bourbon and my nerves after the drive. You’ll have to imagine what a steak looks like! Unfortunately, I do wish I could show you a picture of our waiters’ smiling faces. The servers were cordial and helpful, which of course is really refreshing, especially at a highway exit.

(They really are friendly in Kentucky; everybody seems to call you “honey” as a matter of course.)

So next time you’re driving through Kentucky on I-64 and you’re feeling peckish, check out the Cattleman’s Roadhouse. The one we went to was in Mt. Sterling, just north of the highway next to the cluster of motels, the Cracker Barrel, and the golf course. The other locations are in Frankfort, Louisville, Shelbyville, and Shepherdsville.

Arizona Dreamin'

I'm still thinking about the weather. It's grim out there tonight. Sharon Ray (my Sharon Ray!) is predicting wind chills near -1 by 2:00 a.m., and -5 to -10 tomorrow morning. Winds gusting to 25 mph. And then there will probably be a fresh round of "wintry mix" right before the weekend. Brrr!!!

So I will take this opportunity to show you a picture of what Sue and I saw only last week. On Saturday, February 7, we were in Tucson, Arizona, where it was in the low 80s, sunny, and pretty near perfect. Blue skies. Things were blooming. Springtime in the desert!

It was that kind of dry warmth that makes the Sonoran desert so perfect in February. You can wear long sleeves or short, or slacks or shorts, and still be comfortable. You'll want a little jacket at night, just because it cools down so nicely after dark.

So, here's a picture of Saguaro National Monument. Just to let you know: If we ever pull up stakes and disappear without warning, this is probably where we'll be.



(Yes, Sue took the picture. Thanks, Sue, for sharing it! Y'all, you can see it bigger, and see more detail, if you click on it.)

Arizona Trip 2014

Hi, friends, we just got back from a vacation to Arizona--and you know what that means: vacation pictures! Yay!

First, a warning: these are MY pictures. Snapshots. Don't think for a second that Sue took any of them. She's a much better photographer than I am! Also, I didn't go around photojournalizing the entire trip. I just took pictures when I saw something I wanted to remember, and realized I had a camera with me.

One of the first things we do when we fly into Phoenix is visit the Desert Botanical Garden. Like public gardens everywhere, it not only offers a crash-refresher-course in the native flora and horticultural plants of the area, but also draws in lots of cool birds, insects, and other animals.

We saw lots of nifty birds: Lesser goldfinches, a roadrunner, Abert's towhees, cactus wrens, curve-billed thrashers (nesting and feeding fledglings), mourning and white-winged doves, phainopeplas, and a lovely pair of northern cardinals. Did you know that the southwestern race of cardinals is a distinct subspecies, ssp. superbus? Compared to the cardinals in the Midwest, the males are brighter red, have a longer and fuller-looking crest, and have less black encircling the bill.

Also at the DBG is a new Dale Chihuly art-glass installation. He's been making the rounds of major public botanical gardens (including our own Missouri Botanical Garden in St. Louis), creating impressive glass sculptures designed to harmonize with garden landscaping.

Here's one of the sculptures from a previous exhibition at the DBG, which the DBG purchased for permanent display:

And here's one of the newer sculptures--it reminds me of mother-in-law's tongue (Sansevieria trifasciata):

And yet . . . although there were scads of people out viewing and photographing the glass art, I was still more enthused to see old friends from the "botany department," including blooming brittlebush (Encelia farinosa). Each plant becomes a small bush of wavy, grayish, hairy leaves. In spring, each bush becomes a huge bouquet of golden sunflower blossoms. They can cover entire hillsides, transforming volcanic black rock into a hill of glittering yellow.

Here's another flower that was blooming in abundance at the DBG. I'm not quite sure of the species, but it's some kind of "fairy duster," genus Calliandra. It's another small desert shrub (in the pea family, related to mimosa), and it's one of the many lovely plants you can have in your water-conserving, desert-landscaped yard. If you live there.

When in Arizona, we are always eager to get our fix of good (as in, awesomely good) Mexican food. High on our list is a place I've been in love with since about 1991, Los Dos Molinos. "Los Dos" is a mini-chain at this point, but we always like the one on South Central, which is festively cluttered with brightly painted objects and multicolored lights.

They offer New Mexican cuisine, in particular, and they claim they "don't know how" to make it "not hot." They're always winning awards, like "Best Margarita" and "Best Torch-Your-Mouth Mexican Food." Recently, the Phoenix New Times included eating at Los Dos Molinos in its "Phoenix Bucket List."

Naturally, each meal starts with green and red salsa.

We always try to decide which we "like best tonight." Sometimes it's the red; sometimes it's the green. The red. No, the green. Definitely the green. But wait a minute--let me drink some more of my margarita and try the red again . . .

Ahhh. Nothing in Missouri even touches this.

Although we stayed mostly in Phoenix, taking day trips from there, we did spend two nights in Sedona. On the way up, there's a lovely grassland mesa that you reach just after your car clambers up the mountainous switchbacks north of Black Canyon City. The sudden appearance of flat, grassy land decorated with prickly pears is breathtaking, after the rocky uphill section. This grassland is part of the Agua Fria National Monument, and we like to pull off at the "Sunset View" exit and park on the east side of the highway. There, we wander around and botanize.

Grasslands are rather difficult for people in our culture to appreciate. We're used to having our goodies delivered right to us, without having to make an effort. But the treasures of grasslands are not exactly "front and center." You have to slow the hell down. You have to wander. You have to kneel, to scrutinize.

The little plant below, for instance, was growing against the base of a rock. A relative of the weedy spurges that infest sidewalk cracks, it's a dainty, unusual wildflower in this desert grassland. It's called rattlesnake weed (named for an antique medicinal application), or white-margined spurge (Euphorbia albomarginata). It's pretty, don't you think?

Here's another pretty thing I saw there. I didn't go all out to ID it, but we can safely call it by the common name "silverpuffs." It's in the genus Microseris or Uropappus (lindleyi, I think; about all I remember is that it had hollow stems, and only basal leaves). It's one of many native aster-family plants that could be called "false dandelions."

Ohhhh there were so many pretty flowers out there in that grassland. Purple lupines, desert onion, blue dicks, borages, globemallows, mustards, daisies, plus a variety of bunch grasses and range grasses, shrubby oaks, and the ever-lovin' "wait-a-minute" bush, a shrubby acacia with curved thorns like kitten claws, which grabs hold of you and stops you right in your tracks.

Well, if that happens, it's time to stop and take a picture of something, probably.

Sedona, of course, has become a busy, bustling tourist city. They've installed roundabouts all over the main thoroughfares to keep the traffic flowing. To me, the spinning and constant movement adds to the dizzy, busy sense I get from the city nowadays. I'm glad I got to see Sedona when it was less built-up. And thankfully, we were glad to discover that it's not impossible to still find some places where you can be alone.

Our first night in town, we watched the sunset from a little pullout at the side of Dry Creek Road (that's the road that goes north toward Boynton Canyon, if you've ever been there). There's a place where the road reaches a high point, and the view is terrific. As we stood watching the glow, two more cars, and two pairs of people, arrived, and we all enjoyed the sunset together.



As an added bonus, the ground all over this area was covered with short little evening primroses. I don't know the species; there are something like 20 Oenothera species in Arizona. Like most of its kind, it was happily blooming away as dusk drew on.

You really shouldn't visit Sedona without doing some of the New Age stuff. Whether you "believe" it or not, go ahead and get a psychic reading, or an aura cleansing, or a "negative program removal." Buy a crystal or a pendulum, an amulet or prayer beads. Or join a UFO-watching expedition (they guarantee you will see UFOs). (I suppose what they don't tell you is that they specialize in un-identifying otherwise identifiable objects, but whatever.)

However, because I've done enough of that stuff to last me the rest of my life (I think), the farthest I went this trip was to buy a lovely, boring, space music CD to help me go to sleep nights when I'm too busy thinking. I also looked for my favorite brand of incense (didn't find it), and I looked at cards and art, books and candles, and gemstones and crystals. (But not to buy.)

And then we went to the Red Planet Diner, which is a rather tongue-in-cheek reflection of all the UFO stuff. The cafe started out as a new-built retro-diner, but now it's blended the old-fashioned cafe look with a UFO theme. It's all decorated with space/sci-fi stuff, the ceiling is painted with a huge flying saucer surrounded by stars, comets, and planets, and the menu features dishes like Solar Salad, Flash Gordon Chili, and Roswell Burger. Earlier, we had had Szechuan food for dinner, so we split an order of churros with coconut ice cream and had cups of coffee. And then we took pictures of the flying saucer in front of the restaurant.

The next day, we went hiking not at one of the famous psychic energy vortexes, but on some of the trails in the Coconino National Forest, just off of Jordan Road north of downtown. Below are some views from the trail--because any collection of photos of Sedona must include pictures of the red rocks.

Along the hike, we discovered some little desert puffball mushrooms! They were about the size of marbles and were dry and rather tough. Not papery, not leathery--almost like thin plastic. They were like tiny, thin-skinned Ping-Pong balls. One cluster, at least, I noted, was growing at the base of a ceanothus bush.



It was a good trail. It was sunny, the sky was blue, the birds were singing, and the ground was red. Red, red, red. My formerly white shoes are now official souvenirs of our Arizona trip!



The next day, we walked at Red Rock Crossing, which is one of the official psychic energy vortexes. It's also quite simply a gorgeous place--who wouldn't feel some special "energy" afoot? I won't bore you with all the lovely photos I might have taken. You can find them all over the place.

Instead, I want to show you a picture of what the New Age people have been up to there. Wow! They've been busy! There are a kazillion little rock cairns clustered at various places at Red Rock State Park. This, below, is one of the largest collections. I suppose someone officially pronounced that this very spot is the vortex. Or something. It was pretty interesting to be walking along, minding one's own business, and then suddenly see all this.

Still--you know me. Much more interesting, to me, was this grasshopper, which perfectly blended in with the miscellaneous grayish bits of tree bark, twigs, and other detritus against the red, red Sedona soil.



Of course I haven't told you about a lot of the good parts of our trip, simply because I didn't take pictures of everything (that's Sue's job). But this post is long enough, anyway. To close, I'll share with you our traditional last meal of all our trips to Arizona: The mesquite-grilled, quarter chicken dinner at El Pollo Supremo in Tempe. Oh, it's so good, so, so, good! It's a small, family-owned restaurant, with a limited menu, but what they do, they do with excellence.

Ahhh. El Pollo Supremo.

Don't be sad--we've promised not to wait so long to visit Arizona again.

Early July Trip to Ohio

Get excited! I'm belatedly posting some pictures from our trip to visit Sue's family in northern Ohio!

This is Sable, who belongs to Sue's brother and his family (they were visiting from South Carolina). Sable's an incredibly well-behaved German shepherd. She sat quietly in the living room of Sue's parents. Outdoors, Sable chased woodchucks!

We were there for Independence Day, and this year instead of driving to see a professional pyrotechnics display in one of the nearby towns, we had fireworks in the driveway. Nothing big--you can't buy fireworks in Ohio, except for sparklers, snakes, and snap-and-pops, which can be purchased there in common drugstores. So we had fun with those fairly mild incendiary entertainments.

Sue and I have been together nineteen years (our anniversary was last week!), and in all of these years I've never witnessed "the cannon." Long ago, a friend and former coworker of Sue's dad fabricated a genuine, working, miniature version of a cannon. The barrel is brass, the wheels are iron. And it really works!

Sue's family used to load this thing up with black powder, a fuse, and stuff a paper napkin or something in the barrel and use it to blast in the new year each December 31! It's a tradition in their family. They also used to fire it every July 4. But this was apparently all twenty years ago--at any rate, I've never seen them shoot THE CANNON!

And yeah, it was LOUD! Take that, you silly bottle-rocket people! --Boom!!

No summertime trip to northern Ohio would be officially complete without a trip to Cedar Point amusement park. Do I look like a big fan of amusement parks? No. But Cedar Point is different--it's on a narrow piece of land that pokes out into Lake Erie, and cool breezes keep it relatively tolerable--even during this hot summer. And there's something to be said for the therapeutic primal-scream therapy delivered by some of the crazier rides.

I took the picture above from the Giant Wheel, the park's venerable, huge Ferris wheel. The green rollercoaster in the background is my favorite ride in the park, the Raptor (click for a point-of-view video!). It's one of those "feet dangling" coasters. It's so cool--it's like you're flying!

This one's called the Skyhawk. It's a huge giant terrifying "swingset"--very interesting to do, on account of the great height and speed, but overall it's not as much fun as the big rollercoasters. (Sue took this picture--that's me in the circle! Wahhhhh!!!!)

As of July 4, this is what was left of the big Con Agra grain elevator that used to be a major landmark in Huron, Ohio, and the Sandusky area in general. Most of it was destroyed during a controlled implosion in early January, but the big silos have had to be knocked down more gradually with wrecking balls. I hear the thing is completely gone now, though I understand a great pile of rubble remains to be dealt with. Condos, apparently, will replace the famous symbol of Ohio's agricultural productivity. (Click here to see a video of the implosion of the plant--pretty exciting! The community made a big party out of the occasion.) (Do you get the idea that people in northern Ohio like to blow up stuff--?)

Toft's ice cream is another of those things we must do when we visit northern Ohio in the summer. To my Central Missouri friends, Toft's is the northern Ohio equivalent of Central Dairy: If you don't feel like tackling an entire vat of ice cream, better ask for the "kiddie" size! (Pictured is a "small" serving of their "Buckeye Bites" flavor--peanut butter and chocolate, like mini "buckeyes" candies!)